TMI Stands for Too Much Information

I know this has happened to you at one time or another. That is, unless you’re one of them. If you are one of them, you wouldn’t recognize it when it happens.

I’m talking about those people who assume the conversational position that would imply they’ve known you forever and are free to tell you extremely personal, and often gross, details of their lives. In my experience the “sharing” usually involves sex. I can’t tell you how many women I’ve run into who feel the need to get explicit about their sex lives, their periods, various infections and so on within 15 minutes of meeting me.

Last night I needed to get out of my head so I gave a ride to a person in need. It was supposed to be for her own good. She needed to get to a meeting as part of her treatment for addiction. On the way back (a 3 minute ride) I found out that her ex-boyfriend had a 12″ penis, how he used it and other things that I’m simply not comfortable putting out there.

Now, for the record, this information was totally unsolicited. Although I doubt the measurement validity, it was the way the information tumbled out of her–especially to a virtual stranger. It was brought up (no pun intended) in a compulsive, frantic way. And it made me think about other people who’ve said similar things to me and to friends of mine.

First of all, some women think if they’re talking to other women, no topic is off limits. Secondly, it seems always to be women with manic personalities who “go there.” They burst into the subject like they’re crashing down a door, hurl sordid details at you, talking faster as they get more graphic–like if they don’t get it all out into the open, they’ll explode. Then, usually, they reach into their purse and pop some kind of prescription pill for nerves. Some kinds of “nerve” will not be subdued with a pill unfortunately.

I don’t think they realize, or maybe they just don’t care, that the rest of us are inwardly cringing and then running back, as fast as we can, to tell other manner-minding women about their lack of couth and howling with laughter–probably because we get to use words and phrases we would never allow ourselves to use if we weren’t repeating someone else.

I’ve never understood the compulsion some people have to talk about sex like they’re talking about a great sale on shoes. And I really do believe the common denominator is that obsessive-compulsive, manic personality that is rampant in today’s society. It’s not new, ladies and you didn’t invent something that nobody else knows about. You haven’t seen a rare commodity that makes wide-eyed, wondrous description necessary.

And if you really are still that fascinated by private parts and bodily functions well into your thirties and forties, it’s definitely time for a hobby and some self evaluation. Some things are just simply better left unsaid.